


Get You There

by formalizing



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hints of subspace, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/pseuds/formalizing
Summary: It’s definitely some kind of Mr. Miyagi, ‘wax on, wax off’ bullshit—Mike’s almost insulted by how obvious it is.
Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Get You There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BaronSamedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronSamedi/gifts).



> Sarah Rafferty posted this really great BTS picture of Gabriel Macht and when [I reblogged it](https://all-these-formalities.tumblr.com/post/148534445169), I had Thoughts on it in the tags. Myri wanted to hear more about those Thoughts. This is that 'more'.
> 
> Originally posted [on Tumblr](https://all-these-formalities.tumblr.com/post/156523799259).

_'Clean the floors.'_  
  
Like they hadn't been right in the middle of an argument about... something. No reasoning, no explanation; just a bottle of floor polish set on the counter and an order delivered in that immeasurably controlled tone Harvey only gets in the courtroom or the bedroom before he walked out of his own condo and left Mike to decide if he'd follow it or not.  
  
It’s definitely some kind of Mr. Miyagi, ‘wax on, wax off’ bullshit—Mike’s almost _insulted_ by how obvious it is.

But if this is a test, he’s determined to pass it just as well as he ever did any other test he’s had put in front of him. So he tunes out the part of his brain that is still reeling with the kind of stressful tension that had him shouting at Harvey in the first place, funnels his frustration into a single-minded focus to the task at hand. He goes until his muscles burn and then keeps going. Eventually, the pain peaks and then wanes as they start to go numb and he feels a little weightless, head buzzing with the ache and mindlessness of the task.  
  
He doesn’t quit until Harvey plucks out one of his earbuds to get his attention and wordlessly passes him a bottle of water.  
  
It’s only then that Mike realizes it’s dark outside. He’s not even sure how long it’s been since he thought about anything but the floors. He’s not worrying about the ever-growing pile of work waiting for him at the office, or any of the shit with Trevor, or even about their secret-- _secrets_ at this point. All he’s thinking about is the heaviness of his arms, the cramping in his legs, and the sense of satisfaction he has looking at all that gleaming, mirror-shine hardwood.  
  
He feels calm for the first time in days, like someone flicked a switch on the supercomputer in his mind in a way he usually can’t manage without a significant amount of pot or the kind of sex that leaves bruises.  
  
He’s not even sure when Harvey came back or how long he’s been here, watching Mike on his hands and knees polishing his floor. It’s probably been a while, judging by the scatter of papers and empty glass of scotch on the coffee table. Mike doesn’t bother asking, doesn’t even get up off of his knees, just drains half the bottle in his hand and murmurs a hoarse “thank you” that he’s sure Harvey knows is for more than just the water.  
  
“Looks good,” Harvey says, running his fingers through Mike’s hair. Mike’s not sure if he means the floor or Mike’s current position at his feet, but he hums in agreement either way and rests his head on Harvey’s thigh.  
  
He’s creeping along the border of that blissed-out state he’s only ever found under Harvey’s hands. He clings so tightly to control, over himself and his circumstances, that even when he wants to let it go, he needs to have it taken from him. He’s made Harvey earn his submission every time. But tonight it feels as easy as breathing to just give it up, to lean into Harvey and trust him to keep them both upright.  
  
He’s beginning to drift off when he hears the shutter sound of a cellphone camera and his eyes flutter back open, flicking up to look at Harvey.  
  
“What’s that for?” he murmurs, mildly curious but not enough to stand or even lift his head. “Spank bank material?”  
  
“Don’t be crude,” Harvey says, and Mike groans a little when Harvey tugs none-too-gently at his hair. “If that’s what it was for, you’d be wearing nothing but my come and a smile.”  
  
Mike wants to say ‘now who’s being crude?’, but he feels a little bit like he might swallow his tongue, so all he manages is, “Oh.”  
  
Harvey smirks down at him.  
  
“Yeah. _Oh_. Now come on,” he says, reaching a hand down to pull Mike to his feet.  
  
“If you’re gonna fuck me, I’m putting in a request for missionary right now,” Mike murmurs, stumbling a bit as he gets upright, feeling rushing back into his legs in a wave of pins and needles. “My knees are killing me.”  
  
“Not tonight. I’m taking you to bed, but you’re only going to be sleeping in it.”  
  
Mike’s not sure he quite manages to keep the pout off his face as he follows him to the bedroom.  
  
“Clothes off.”  
  
Even as tired as he is, Mike can feel a shiver roll down his spine at that.  
  
“Y’know,” he says, tugging his shirt over his head before working on the fly of his jeans. “I’m getting awfully naked to not be having sex tonight.”  
  
He can practically hear Harvey’s eyes rolling as he says, “You’re getting naked because my sheets are expensive and I don’t want them to smell like floor polish. And if I’d known you’d have this much energy left, I would’ve made you do the whole apartment.”  
  
“Free labor—I knew that’s what this was all about.”  
  
“Maybe I should have just fucked you; you’re never this mouthy after. On the bed.”  
  
Mike grins around a yawn as he steps out of his jeans and boxers in one go and lets himself fall into bed, exhaustion catching up with him as soon as he’s off his feet.  
  
“Still can,” he says, spreading his arms out to either side, trying to look enticing without having to open his suddenly very heavy eyes. The pillows smell like Harvey and he can’t help but inhale deeply. “Offer’s open. And you love my mouth. S’part of my,” another yawn, “charm.”  
  
Harvey nudges Mike’s legs fully up onto the bed and pulls the covers up over them.  
  
“‘Charm’ is definitely not what I like most about your mouth,” he says, pressing a hand to Mike’s cheek as he leans down to kiss him. It’s soft and unhurried, one of those kisses that isn’t leading to anything but another kiss.  
  
Mike forces his eyes open to look up at him when Harvey pulls back, leans into the cool hand on his cheek, the comforting weight of it.   
  
“Sure you wanna take a pass? ‘Cause chances are, I’m not gonna be... in this place by tomorrow.”  
  
“I happen to like my partners fully conscious.”  
  
Mike yawns again before he can protest, proving Harvey’s point.  
  
“And anytime you want to be _in this place_ , Mike?” Harvey’s hand slides down the side of his neck, fingers tracing the spot where a collar would sit, where Harvey’s bitten him a line of bruises before. “You come to me, and I’ll get you there; that’s the deal. Got it?”  
  
His eyes have that same serious look they get when he talks about loyalty, the one that’s hiding a potential vulnerability. Mike likes the way they soften when he tilts his chin to offer up more of his throat to Harvey’s hand.  
  
“Got it,” he says, humming contentedly when he’s rewarded with another kiss.  
  
Harvey clicks off the lamp on the bedside table and Mike’s heavy eyes have already fallen closed again when he thinks to add, “Though, for the record? I like the fun way of getting there a lot more.”  
  
Harvey’s amused, “I’ll take that under advisement,” is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.


End file.
